Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
No.
I stayed looking at Alice, who also kept her eyes on me.
“I’ll just let you know now that I won’t give up,” she hissed quietly before she backed up, picked up her phone and keys from the coffee table, and walked around the table as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
When I turned around, I was stunned to see that Foster was going out into the hall with her instead of coming to me.
Just…what?
As I watched the door close behind him, I turned on my heel and went back to my wheel, wetting my hands once again, and finishing my vase.
Other than a few problems, like the fingernail mark at the very top, and the thicker lip on one side of the opening, it was pretty good.
All things considering.
Although once I had it finished, and removed from the wheel, I wasn’t up to throwing anymore pots.
Not the kind I usually threw, anyway.
After ten minutes of still no Foster, I went to the sink, washed my hands, and then got into the shower.
I made sure to lock the door, though, just in case he tried to come in.
He didn’t.
When I got out, I dried quickly off and walked into his bedroom, surprised to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the bathroom door.
He looked at me.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
I glanced up at him as I walked to my bag in the corner.
Slipping the panties on underneath the towel, I said, “Wrong? Whatever would give you that idea?”
My sarcasm knob was on full blast.
And he could tell.
His eyebrows rose. “What’s that supposed to mean? Alice said there was nothing wrong.”
I snorted. “That’s rich.”
Slipping my bra on, I followed it up with a short pair of shorts that were beyond indecent, and a tank top that said, ‘I love country boys.’
Before I could pull the shirt all the way down, though, Foster was there.
“Tell me,” he growled, eyes hot with ire.
“I don’t want to talk to some chick about how good you are in bed. This isn’t a Kum-by-fucking-ya. I’m a real blood and bone woman. I don’t like sharing, and I’ve already proved that fact by divorcing my ex-husband who, apparently, had no problem with sharing. Maybe you ought to think about that next time before you call some old flame to watch over me,” I hissed at Foster. “One, who might I had, still wants to fuck you.”
I surprised myself with the amount of venom I was able to pour into that little speech. Which apparently surprised Foster, too.
“She said…what?” He asked incredulously, not moving back at all.
“You fucking heard me.”
He blinked, pushing into me until my back was pressed against the wall.
“I know you’re pissed, but I don’t know what your deal is. What she said is not on me. What she said is on her,” he snapped. “Maybe you should stop thinking that every man is like that piece of shit you married.”
I glared at him.
“Get off me,” I hissed.
He stepped back, giving me the space I’d asked for.
Irrationally disappointed that he’d stepped back from me, giving me the space I’d requested, I walked past him into the bathroom.
“Just leave me alone,” I said as I slammed the bathroom door.
“Do you still want to come to the party with me?” Foster growled through the door.
Opening the door, I glared at him, letting him know just what I wanted to do with his severed head with my eyes alone, and nodded once.
“Yeah, I want to go to your fucking party with you,” I snarled.
Then I slammed the door again.
Or tried to.
He caught it before the door could latch, forcing it open.
Which, in turn, forced me backwards.
I was still mad.
He was still mad that I was mad at him.
Which meant, when his mouth slammed down on mine, our kiss was angry.
It wasn’t a soft kiss, either.
It was hot, hard, and heavy.
He nipped my lip hard, pulling back only long enough to take a hold of my shorts, rip the button free of the hole, and yank them forcefully down my legs.
I heard a tearing sound, surprised when I felt a rush of excitement between my legs with the force he was using.
Without any foreplay whatsoever, he twirled me around, and pushed me down roughly over the bathroom counter.
My shirt and bra were immediately soaked by the water that’d been leftover from my morning routine, making my white tank top transparent.
My nipples hardened as I looked up, watching him rip his own zipper down, eyes zeroed in on mine in the mirror.
He didn’t waste time ripping a condom out of his wallet and slicking it on over his length.
By the time the end of the condom covered all that it could cover, I was practically panting in need.
Neither one of us said a word as he line his massive cock up with my pussy and slammed inside.
He filled me to overflowing in one powerful thrust, knocking on the entrance to my womb with such force that I nearly came from the surprise of it all.
When we’d had sex in the past, it was normally slow and sensual.
This time, though, it spoke of need, want, and anger.
Fuck, I thought as he started to move. He feels fucking divine taking up every inch of me.
I felt heat rushing to my core, pooling pleasantly in my belly, waiting for the right moment to spill over.
A particularly hard thrust had my eyes, which I hadn’t been aware had closed, open in surprise.
I stared at him, watching his muscles flex as he took me faster and faster.
Then when he had my gaze, he moved his hand from my hip, and swept his thumb over my back entrance.
That forbidden place that I’d only dreamed about in the comfort of my dark bedroom.
I gasped, asshole puckering in response, as I pushed back against him even harder.
He didn’t say it, but the promise was there.
It’d be some day. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But one day he’d claim every hole that belonged to me. And I’d let him.